


American Dream

by TheSecretFandom



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Broadway, F/M, Fashion Designer!Betty, First Date, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Playwright!Jughead, Slow Dancing, Speakeasies, roaring 20's au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecretFandom/pseuds/TheSecretFandom
Summary: Set the Roaring 20's, Elizabeth "Betty" Cooper is a successful fashion designer and Forsythe "Jughead" Jones is one of New York's greatest playwrights. Two worlds collide when Betty goes to the premiere of Jughead's newest show.





	American Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Part One of my Roaring 20's Au, Land of Excess.  
> Inspiration from the song American Dream by Danger Scene (mostly just chapter titles)  
> Hope you enjoy!

"Ethel, have you seen my diamond necklace?" Betty called to her assistant. Betty had hired Ethel six months ago, and she was thus far the best assistant she'd ever had. She was responsible for organizing Betty's latest fashion show, with all the biggest names in fashion in attendance. It was the first fashion show Cooper Fashions had hosted, starring the innovative styles of the young yet top female designer, Elizabeth Cooper.

"You hung it on your vanity, ma'am." Ethel replied.

"You don't need to call me ma'am, Ethel. You make me sound like an old woman." Betty sighed. She'd insisted when she first hired Ethel that she call her Betty, even Elizabeth, but she still called her ma'am regardless. "Remind me again why I hung a priceless diamond necklace on my vanity? Do I not have a jewelry box?"

"That's what I said last night, and you said that it could stay there because you were wearing it to the theater today."

"I don't know why I question you." Betty lifted the gold chain from where it hung on the spindle of the mirror attached to her vanity. "Be a dear and make sure the car is waiting. I'm almost ready to go."

"Yes, ma'am."

Betty entered the black town car alone, allowing her chauffer to close the door behind her. The New York City streets were busy on that weekend. Young men and women walked the streets, leaving trails of cigarette smoke in their wake. None would admit what they were up to that night, but in the mid-1920s at the height of Prohibition, Betty knew they must be wandering in to one of many speakeasies that were hidden throughout the city.

Betty preferred to keep up her image, avoiding the less savory locations in the city when there was a chance of the paparazzi catching her. She was just establishing herself in an industry thus far held hostage by men, and she would not allow some scandal to knock her out of the spotlight.

The lights from the theater were glowing, sparkling like stars pulled down from the sky. The night sky in New York City grew increasingly dimmer as the years went on. Betty remembered, as a child, visiting the city before the War… before the city lights drowned out her dreams of life on a farm with her childhood sweetheart and replaced them with dreams of fashion, adventure, and forbidden romance.

She was born at the turn of the century, her age always reflected in the year facing her. Now 1924, Betty was successful for her age, but an enigma to her peers. What was a beautiful young woman like her doing without a husband? That was something that Betty herself couldn't answer. A husband was always on her list, but her career was always higher on the list. Her husband, whoever he was, would have to wait.

A red carpet sprawled across the sidewalk from where her car stopped, leading up the stairs into the theater. Her chauffer held out a white gloved hand and as soon as her foot hit the ground flashes of light burst forth from the cameras of the news reporters.

"Miss Cooper, are you with someone?" A hot topic of conversation wherever she went.

"Miss Cooper, how long are you staying in New York?" Less common, but they always wanted to know which city she was headed off to next.

"Miss Cooper, who are you wearing?" The only question that she answered honestly every time.

Betty smiled toward the direction of the question, the lace of her dress pooling around her ankles. "Myself of course."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Mister Jones?"

"What is it, Keller?" Jughead was busy. His newest show premiered tonight and already his lead actress had ripped a seam in her dress and the spotlight bulb had shattered. Luckily, both had remedies. An adequate seamstress and spare bulb would fix all of his problems, if only the damn bulb could be found in the supply closet.

"Elizabeth Cooper is on the red carpet."

Jughead stopped in his tracks. He trained his eyes on his assistant, trying to decide if the young man was lying to him.

"A celebrity is coming to my show?"

"Some may argue that you're a celebrity, Sir." Kevin responded promptly.

"I don't care for flattery, you know this." Jughead was on the move again. If the handyman couldn't find a simple light bulb, he'd have to do it himself. "I wasn't made aware of this when the VIP booths were reserved."

"She didn't reserve a booth." Kevin wrung his hands together. "She came alone with a single ticket, general audience. That's how she slipped through. She had her personal assistant buy a ticket for her."

"Well, move her to a VIP seat then. I would have gladly sent her complimentary tickets had I known."

"That… may be a problem." Kevin shrunk away from his boss when Jughead whirled on him. Kevin hated to be the bearer of bad news, especially with his particularly hotheaded boss. "All of the VIP seats have been reserved by some incredibly esteemed members of society. We can't afford to move anyone."

"Then…" Jughead thought for a moment. "Then put her in my booth. It's the best seat in the house. What are you waiting for? Go!"

Kevin scurried away toward the front of the building, through a small crowd that that had already arrived. Many of the higher class citizens, considered to be celebrities to New Yorkers, had arrived on the red carpet just moments before the esteemed fashion designer. Jughead watched as they entered the theater, seemingly disappointed that their small moment in the spotlight had been stolen away by an international star.

Jughead had first heard of Elizabeth Cooper five years ago, when she was granted her first spotlight at a fashion show in New York at the age of nineteen. She became a celebrated designer with rapid speed. One of few female designers from America, and the youngest female designer in the world to have her first line of women formal wear met with rave reviews.

Despite his four year seniority on the young woman, she had found fame much sooner than him. When Elizabeth was jet setting across the globe to various fashion shows, Jughead was struggling with his first big play. While her designs were in high demand, Jughead was begging on his hands and knees in front of potential investors.

His controversial show was met with mixed reviews, but with a murderous plot line and a mysterious figure pulling the strings, it was a hit that skyrocketed Jughead into the spotlight… quite literally.

"Five minutes to show time! Everyone to your places!" Jughead waited at the center of the stage, just behind the thick, red curtain.

A nervous energy appeared behind him. "Mr. Jones…"

"Now is not the time, Keller." Jughead straightened his tie.

"But…"

"Is this going to affect the show in any way?"

"Well, it-"

"Get backstage, Kevin. Everything is going to be fine."

Once again, Kevin disappeared into the crowd of cast and crew that waited backstage. Jughead slowly pushed through the curtain and stepped into the spotlight at center stage. Through the bright light, he couldn't make out the audience… though he'd been assured it was a full house. Jughead grinned, "Welcome, esteemed guests to the premier of Land of Excess."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Betty sat in the sixth row back from the stage, watching as Forsythe Jones took the stage to introduce the show. She could feel the eyes of various audience members watching her with sidelong glances. She'd been offered a seat in a VIP booth by Forsythe's assistant and with much disappointment to him, she'd refused. After all, she'd come to this show at this particular theater for a reason.

As a child, when she'd first visited the city with her parents and siblings, they'd gone to a show at the small theater that had once sat on this land. She was quite young when Peter Pan came to America, and her parents had saved money for something of just the sort. A new theater had been built in its place after the war ended, but Betty still felt like a child again as she sat n the middle of the theater six rows back, just where she had been over fifteen years ago.

This show was much more mature. Set in the present day, it was a rags to riches story about a young woman with a dark past establishing herself as a successful business woman. Amidst a stalker from her past and a new mysterious lover, it was a grand romance that would empower any woman hoping to make her mark on the world. No doubt it would have mixed reviews from the influential theater critics, made up mostly of old men.

By the end of the show, Betty vowed to use her influence to promote the show. Not many shows had a female as the lead, especially when most playwrights were men. She had to give Forsythe Jones props, he always found a way to make his controversial plays strike some cord with a large audience.

Betty waited in her seat long after the show ended until only a few audience members still shuffled around the back of the theater.

"Did you enjoy the show?" A deep voice spoke from stage left, followed by a tall man with dark hair.

"Quite." Betty stood at the arrival of Forsythe Jones. She'd seen his face in newspapers before, but he was much more handsome in person.

"You are Elizabeth Cooper." He stated, stepping through the rows of seats to stand in the row just in front of her.

"And you're Forsythe Jones."

"Call me Jughead." His lips quirked into a small smile.

"Well, if we're on a nickname basis… you can call me Betty."

She held her hand out to him and he took it happily. His hand was large, enveloping hers completely as they shook.

"I invited you to a VIP booth, did my assistant get in contact with you?"

"Ah, so you noticed." Betty smiled. "Yes, I got the message. However, I paid my modest fee for my carefully chosen seat and I intended to sit there amongst the… peasants."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to tease strange men?"

"Are you a strange man, Mr. Jones?"

He didn't respond to this question. Instead, he laughed. Betty raised an eyebrow at him, something about his presence felt familiar; almost comforting.

"I so wish you would have taken my invitation." He laughed. "Your conversation is much more stimulating than Kevin's, my assistant. He's just a bundle of nervous energy most of the time."

"Were you not nervous on your opening night?" Betty found that hard to believe. "I am always nervous out of my mind when I release a new line."

"You see right through me, Miss Cooper."

She was fascinated by his eyes. A deep sparkling blue. There wasn't a lot of color in today's world. Even her own designs tended toward silver and gold trimming on black and white fabric. Perhaps she should consider investing in some blue dyes, or maybe red and green. The new year approached in a few short months, and with it her next line of fashion due to hit the market.

"The night is young. Care to join me for a night on the town?"

Betty smiled a small apology. She knew just what a night on the town meant. "I'll have to politely decline."

"That's a shame." He shifted his weight and began walking toward the exit. "Allow me to give you a ride home. I'd love to hear what you think of the show."

"My car should be waiting." Betty replied, following him toward the exit.

"Let me at least show you my car." Forsythe Jones walked backward down the aisle, his eyes locked on Betty. "It's a gorgeous light blue with a convertible top, though I'll leave the top up since I believe it's getting a tad cold outside."

"A little presumptuous, aren't you?" Betty smiled regardless.

"I have faith in my car. Come on, I had Kevin bring it around front."

Betty followed him, admittedly curious. She'd never been too interested in cars. Her family had never had a personal car. She distinctly remember her first ride being in a taxi after she'd moved to New York to pursue her dreams. Even now, she owned a car but had never had the courage to drive in the city. Instead, she hired a chauffeur.

The car was beautiful, standing out against the dark city street. It was much more beautiful than Betty's plain black car, which was parked just behind his. Betty noticed the smile in her comrade's eye as she stepped closer to the car. She'd seen some luxurious things in her time, but there was something different about this particular car. Maybe it was the stains of mud swirling around the wheel wells, something most people with such a nice car and good amount of money would normally keep clean.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Forsythe swept his hand across the hood of the car, rubbing out a water spot with his thumb.

"She?" Betty responded.

"Well, of course." He replied. "Something this beautiful has got to be a woman, don't you think?"

Betty rolled her eyes, something she felt she may do often in the presence of this strange man. "I can't argue with that logic. It is a beautiful car."

Forsythe Jones smiled then, his lips curling up at the corners. "So you're saying you'll let me drive you home?"

Betty grinned in reply. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to." He stepped off the curb and walked around the driver's side of Betty's car, where Reginald Mantle sat waiting to take her home. "Hello, fine sir. I'd like to send you home early with a hefty tip. I'll escort Miss Cooper home tonight."

Forsythe held out a five dollar bill to the young chauffeur, which Reggie, bless his heart, refused to take.

"I'll need to speak to Miss Cooper. She tells me when to go home, sir."

Betty found her way to the passenger window. "It's okay, Reg. Take the money, go home, and don't spend that all at once."

"Thank you, Miss Cooper. My mother will be so grateful."

"Tell her hello from me." Betty smiled. "And also tell her that I'm still waiting for her to come to the office to get fitted for a new Sunday dress."

"I'll tell her, but I won't promise she'll listen. You know she gets nervous around expensive things."

"I'll win her over one of these days." Betty stepped back from the car. "Have a good night."

Reggie waved and waited for Forsythe to return to the sidewalk before pulling out onto the street. Betty watched the car disappear around the corner, even as she felt the presence of Forsythe Jones at her side once more.

"Well said, Miss Cooper. And it looks as if I've won you over as well?"

"Your car won me over." She corrected. "And it's a short ride home."

He walked over to his car and pulled the door open. Betty lifted her dress slightly to step into the car before she was stopped.

"Before you get in, promise me you will at least give me a chance to win you over during the drive."

"Do your worst, Forsythe Jones."

He closed the door behind her and moved swiftly behind the wheel. "Let's start with you calling me Jughead."

"Okay, Jughead. Woo me."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Betty hooked her arm with Jughead as she led the way to her temporary New York apartment. He'd driven around the block twice after Betty had pointed out her building. She hadn't said anything when he kept driving, so he knew that he had, in fact, won her over on the short drive.

"I'd expected you somewhere a bit more lavish." Jughead said when they stopped at the front door.

"I'm one woman, who spends a lot of time living in hotels and train cars. I don't need, nor do I care for an expensive house that I'll never use."

"Fair enough, I sleep in my office most days. Lately, actually I've been sleeping at the theater."

"All work and no play…"

"I wouldn't say no play. Normally I would try to go out and find some adventure on a Friday night, but something much more interesting came up."

Jughead frowned when Betty pulled her arm away. She reached for the door handle and prepared to go inside.

"I had a lovely time at the show, Jughead. Thank you for the ride home."

"My pleasure." Jughead held his hand out to her and she placed her hand in his. He lifted her much smaller hand, leaving a light kiss on the soft skin. "Can I call on you tomorrow?"

Betty took her hand back and stepped through her door. "You can try."

Jughead spent the rest of the night thinking about those last three words she said. Her confidence may be the most alluring thing about her, but something told him that she was just as interested in him as he was in her. He knew he'd be back the next day, and maybe convince her to have dinner.

His office was cold when he returned. So maybe he hadn't told the entire truth about why it was that he slept in his office. He had a small bed set up in the corner of the loft, a kitchenette set at the back of the room. His desk sat in front of the only window, providing a view of the city streets panning out beneath him.

It wasn't that he didn't want a bigger home, but he was comfortable here. He'd grown up in a one room home with his parents and sister, one that was smaller than the room he currently lived in. Anything bigger he thought would feel empty. 

And anyway, he was satisfied with sending his well earned money to his parents so they could afford to give his sister, ten years his junior, an education. Not many women got the chance to go to school, but Jughead had made sure, since his produced his first play, that she would stay in school.

He was ridiculously proud of her, now in her first year of nursing school. She wanted to become a doctor, but would settle for nursing until she could make her case to the dean of the medical college that women should be allowed to study more advanced forms of medicine.

Jughead fell asleep thinking about this. He thought, maybe if tomorrow went as planned he'd one day be able to introduce his sister to Betty Cooper. Betty had managed to make a name for herself in a man's world. She could instill some hope in his young sister.

The morning sun woke him early, a stream of bright light shone across his eyes. He yanked a pillow over his face, begging for sleep to take him back again, but it seemed he was not destined to return to dreamland. In the light of the new day, he felt nervous about his eventual return to Miss Betty Cooper. There was something about the dark of the night that granted him confidence, like she wouldn't see though him to his less than golden past.

Despite his current misgivings, he left his small home late in the afternoon to call on the young woman. His building seemed different in the daylight, and he caught a glance of golden blonde hair in the window above. Jughead smiled to himself; now he remembered why he swallowed his anxiety to take the few short steps to the building's lobby.

"Good afternoon, sir." A man in a suit and bellman's hat stood behind a desk in the lobby, a bright smile on his face. "How can I help you today?"

"Elizabeth Cooper?" Jughead supplied. "Would you let her know that Jughead Jones is here?"

The man nodded and pressed a button on an intercom. He spoke in hushed tones, so Jughead couldn't hear what he was saying to her.

"She wants me to tell you that she may or may not be down in ten minutes, and that you should wait outside."

Ten minutes. Jughead leaned against his car as he watched the time pass as various businessmen walked down the street, briefcases in hand. As ten minutes approached, he started to worry that she wouldn't be coming. Then… something caught his eye. A swatch of pale yellow fabric fluttered out of the window through which he'd seen golden hair ten minutes prior. A leg poked out from under the fabric as none other than Betty Cooper climbed out onto the fire escape.

"I don't remember Juliet climbing off her balcony to meet Romeo." Jughead called out to her.

"Who said I wanted to be Juliet?" Betty replied. "They die in the end you know. An esteemed writer such as yourself should be familiar with the works of Shakespeare, no?"

She was climbing down the metal stairway, careful not to let her dress get caught on any sharp edges. Jughead stepped away from his car, closer to the building as Betty reached the final ladder leading to the sidewalk. The end of the ladder stopped three feet from sidewalk.

"Well, Romeo. Are you going to help me down or not?"

Jughead obliged. He held one hand to her waist, the other to the hand not holding the ladder, and she hopped to the sidewalk. Betty was smiling, her soft features even more beautiful in the day light. Her hair was tied up in a knot on top of her head, a delicate chain around her neck.

"I'll admit, after last night I wasn't sure how you'd respond to my coming here today."

"What can I say? You are a mysterious man, and I need a little excitement in my life." Betty brushed past Jughead and walked around his car. "It's much more beautiful in the daylight."

"Most things are." Jughead replied. "Would you be interested in dinner?"

"You have a place in mind?"

"I do." Jughead smiled, opening the passenger door for Better to enter. "And I just so happen to be friends with the owner."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It was a disaster!" Betty laughed, recalling a story from her past over a plate of spaghetti. "It was my second fashion show ever, and the first model tripped over the front of the dress and fell right on her face!"

"I don't see how that's something you can control, though." Jughead responded. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better. "It's not your fault she was clumsy."

"Here's what you need to know about the fashion industry." Betty took a sip of her water. "If the model stumbles, it’s the shoes. If the model trips and falls, it's absolutely the fault of the dress. I thought my career was over after that. It was all over the community that I couldn't sew a proper hem length."

"It seems you managed to get past that. At least, you seem to have done pretty well for yourself."

Betty shrugged. It had been a little discouraging to have her name alongside "Fashion Fail" in the newspapers, but she had survived. That one moment that had threatened her career, ultimately only increased her motivation to prove the critics wrong. And now here she was, one of the most successful fashion designers in the world sitting across the table from one of New York's greatest playwrights.

"Are you up for a little excitement tonight?" Jughead spoke again. He had finished his food quickly, and watched as Betty slowly took small bites of her food. Now, however, Betty had finished her meal and assumed he would be taking her home.

"I suppose I can't say no to excitement, especially after I specifically said that was what I was looking for."

"I've got something in mind if you'd like to see?" Jughead raised his hand to signal the waiter.

"I trust you." Betty smiled as Jughead spoke to their waiter.

He asked to give his compliments to the chef and they were led back toward the kitchen. Betty didn't bother to ask what exactly they were doing, but she had an idea. The kitchen was a frenzy of activity, but the chef saw Jughead, shouted some instructions, and then made his was to where they stood by the door.

"Jughead Jones!" The tall man reached out to shake Jughead's hand. "And who is this lovely lady?"

Betty offered her hand to him and the chef placed a soft kiss to her hand.

"The is Elizabeth Cooper, world renowned fashion designer AND my date for the evening so you'd better watch yourself, Sweet Pea."

"Sweet Pea?" Betty questioned.

"It's a nickname, obviously. When you're in a certain business it's better for your clients to not know your real name."

"So I take it you're not just a chef then?"

"Clever." Sweet Pea winked at her then turned his attention to Jughead. "So you're going in then?"

"If you'd be so kind." Jughead crooked his elbow for Betty to link their arms as they followed Sweet Pea to the back of the kitchen where two large metal doors stood side by side. The moved through the door on the left and were escorted into a room cloudy with smoke and smooth jazz crooning from a stage set in the back of the building.

Sweet Pea got the attention of the bartender, speaking quietly so that other customers couldn't hear him. "These two are VIP. All drinks are free tonight for them." He turned to face Jughead. "Try not to make me go bankrupt."

"No worries." Jughead clapped him on the shoulder and Sweet Pea disappeared back to the kitchen.

Betty was more focused on the environment around her than the bottles of alcohol organized behind the bar. A few small tables with a few men and women sitting around each. She suddenly felt like her outfit, long and covered in lace, was entirely out of place. The few other women in the room wore black flapper dresses, a fashion Betty had never given a second thought to, and accessories made of feathers around their necks and on their heads.

"Betty?" Jughead's hand was on her elbow, leading her through the small crowd. "Are you okay with this table here? Close enough to hear the music but not too close that I can't hear you talk."

"Who said I wanted to talk?" Betty teased. She took the seat anyway as Jughead ordered from the bar. He returned with a glass of whiskey for himself and red wine for her.

"I wasn't sure what you would like, so I took the easy option."

"That's fine. Honestly, wine is the only alcohol I've had… and that was usually at church or at home when my sister snuck some her current beau."

"I often forget how young you are." Jughead said, followed by a sip of his bitter drink.

"Too young?" Betty asked. She was twenty-four, and by the time she'd reached an age where she felt the desire to drink alcohol it had become illegal. Even with her connections, she had never ventured into a speakeasy until tonight.

"You seem the perfect age to me. It fits you."

The smell of smoke and spilled alcohol permeated the small room, and as the night wore on more patrons entered through the secret door in the kitchen. The room became increasingly crowded and Betty was pushed in Jughead as another couple joined their table.

Jughead seemed to sense the tension she felt with the crowd because he stood and offered his hand to her.

"One dance and I'll take you home?"

Betty took his hand with a smile and followed him to the small bit of the open dance floor. The music came halting to a stop and was replaced by a slower ballad, the bass plunking out a deep rhythm. A sweet melody floated out from the upright piano at the side of the stage.

Betty draped one arm over Jughead's shoulder, the other held in his hand as he pulled her close at the waist. They swayed softly with the music, a few other couples following their lead. There wasn't much room to move, so Jughead pulled her in small circles until the music wound down and ultimately went silent.

Jughead's arm was still around her even when the music stopped, and Betty thought that she quite liked this. She hadn't danced with a boy since she was in school and even then it felt forced, like something she was expected to do. Here, it felt entirely unexpected and exciting.

Jughead led her back to the door they had come through and passed through the kitchen, which had since become much more quiet. The streets outside were still crowded with people moving from one place to another, but in the alley beside the restaurant Jughead's car sat alone.

"I think I'd like to ride home with the top down, if you don't mind." Betty asked as they approached the car.

"I thought you'd never ask."

With the wind in her hair, Betty felt more free than she ever had before. City lights glowing around her and a handsome man sitting next to her, she could get used to a life like this. She wasn't entirely ready for the night to end when her apartment was suddenly imposing in front of her.

"You'll walk me up?"

"We aren't going up the fire escape this time, are we?" Jughead teased.

"I think the indoor stairs will do just fine." Betty took Jughead's arm as she led him to her doorway. She stopped outside the door, not yet taking her key from her purse. "When can I expect you to call on me again?"

Betty turned to face Jughead, their bodies so close she could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He tilted his head down, closer to hers and his lips pressed softly against her cheek.

"As soon as possible." He said, pulling away.

"I look forward to it."


End file.
